


It Started with a Shoe

by mia6363



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Community: pacificrimkink, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt isn’t one hundred percent certain… but he thinks a gangster might be “courting" him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Started with a Shoe

It started when Hannibal came back from the dead for his shoe.

(Hermann argued that it _technically_ started when Newt first “made his acquaintance” with Hannibal, but when Hermann said it like that it sounded like Newt had had sex with a stranger and wasn’t squealing over the Kaiju organs that he’d only dreamed of observing. That, and Hermann was a square that needed to be wrong every once and a while. Even if he was _technically_ right.)

Newt and Hermann had just gotten back to their lab after the big celebration, and it had to be around four in the morning. Hermann was slipping in and out of German and he was speaking so fast that Newt could only catch a few words. 

“Please don’t tell me I’m going to have to hold your hair, Hermann.” Hermann burped and Newt grimaced. “I mean, you know I will, I’ll massage your shoulders while you go down on your knees for the porcelain goddess, man, but that doesn’t mean it’s a thing I’m looking forward to.”

Newt steered Herman to a chair and ran his fingers through his hair, swaying on his feet because hey, he was pretty drunk but apparently he had a better tolerance than Hermann. 

He turned to get some water so that Hermann wouldn’t feel like total death in the morning—when the door slammed open.

Newt jumped but he hadn’t been totally scared. He figured it was some drunk soldiers, maybe Raleigh and Mako were a little too giddy when trying to find a room (but Newt didn’t think that was their style), or maybe someone was going to collapse black-out drunk in their labs and would be subjected to Newt doodling on their face. 

Except… it wasn’t.

Because it was a _zombie_ an actual _dead person_ still in their suit and one gold plated shoe and dark coke-bottle glasses and Newt was _screaming—_

“Zombie, zombie, _ZOMBIE!_ ”

Hermann, thank God, was instantly sober for a moment and he was on his feet and by Newt’s side. Newt grabbed the closest thing to him, a beaker, and flung it with all his strength at Hannibal Chau’s walking corpse. 

Zombie-Hannibal smacked it out of the air with a snarl.

Newt shrieked and clutched onto Herman, who somehow only swayed stoically, but his trembling lower lip betrayed him.

“Shut up, moron, I’m not zombie because I’m not dead!” Newt hiccupped and wiped his eyes that weren’t wet because he was a _hero_ that saved the world, not a sissy who cried at not-zombies. Hannibal stalked forward and jabbed his finger against Newt’s chest so hard that he was going to have bruises the next morning, guaranteed. Hannibal’s face was so close to him that Newt could smell that blood and guts from the Kaiju that still clung to his suit. It made Newt recoil because it was seriously rank. “Now, where is my _GOD DAMNED_ shoe?”

Newt shuddered from the smell and Hannibal’s booming voice that shot through him like icicles. 

That was when Hermann hunched over and vomited all over Hannibal’s remaining gold shoe and his sock-covered foot. 

Hermann sniffed and shuddered.

“Oh, Lord.”

He slumped to the ground, clutching his stomach. Newt shook on his feet, too frightened to move. He wondered if this was what gazelle’s felt like right before the lion’s jaws closed down on their necks. Hannibal looked down at the vomit and then at Newt’s face.

Newt squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please don’t kill me. I just helped save the world, dude, come on.”

Hannibal sighed like it enraged him to do so, his breath fanning over Newt’s glasses. 

“You owe me breakfast. Tomorrow at eight.” He flicked something at Newt and it hit Newt’s face and got stuck in his glasses. “Don’t be late.” Hannibal turned and walked out. “And don’t forget my other shoe!” 

Newt opened his eyes only when Hannibal slammed the door shut. Stuck in his glasses was a business card to a diner. Hermann looked up at him, his lips quivering.

“Who the bloody hell was that?”

Newt didn’t know how to answer him.

::::

Breakfast was the first step toward… something that Newt couldn’t have predicted. 

It was awkward but they also got fantastic waffles and chocolate milk, even if Newt was paying for it. He presented Hannibal the shoe and expected Hannibal to leave. Instead, they ate together and Newt made Hannibal laugh so hard that he snorted milk up in his nose. 

Hannibal’s hand fell on Newt’s shoulder after his third story (the time when he got locked out of the dorm at college wearing only a pink thong and a lab coat) and squeezed.

“You’re all right, kid.” Hannibal got up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Are you staying in Hong Kong for a while?”

Newt shrugged.

“I dunno. I mean, the world isn’t ending anymore so… I don’t know.”

Hannibal nodded, rubbing his chin like he was considering how that would affect his daily life. 

“You should come over for dinner.”

Newt was floored. All he could spit out was a pathetic and squeaky “Okay,” and Hannibal was gone. Newt forgot to ask important questions like “where,” and “when.” 

When he got back to the lab Hermann downed some aspirin and rolled his eyes. 

“We just survived the apocalypse,” Hermann drawled out, “and you’re still finding ways to get yourself killed.” 

Newt figured it was a weird way of being polite. But why would the lord of the Hong Kong criminal underworld bother to be polite to a guy like Newt?

There were some questions that even Newton Geiszler didn’t have the answer to.

::::

The first dinner was with Hannibal and his entire gang. They had takeout Chinese and ate on the floor. Newt mostly listened, sitting next to Hannibal as the gang retold inside jokes that Newt obviously didn’t understand. He didn’t mind. It was free food and when they were done Hannibal let him spend two hours with the Kaiju remains he had on site. 

The second dinner was with Hannibal’s inner circle. It was Italian, and after it was done Hannibal gave Newt brand new medical instruments and tools, from a bone saw down to the scary picks that dentists used. Newt was there for five hours after the last person sucked up their linguini. 

The third dinner was just with Hannibal. And it wasn’t so much a dinner as it was non-stop research and sketching of the anatomy of the Kaiju remains with bottles and bottles of sake. 

Newt clutched to his filled notebooks and worn down pens and pencils. 

“You know…” Newt looked over at Hannibal who was just lounging, watching him work and get increasingly drunk. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.” 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upwards. 

“Oh yeah? What’s my motive, genius?”

Newt narrowed his eyes. 

“You want more ins with the Jaeger teams. Or something.” Newt sniffed and rubbed his eyes, hugging his notebooks closer. “But it won’t happen because while yes, you’re an intimidating dude, you don’t really come close to a bunch of robots and soldiers.” 

Hannibal chuckled, and it was so deep and rumble-y that it sounded like someone tossed sandpaper and diamonds into a blender. It sounded like an earthquake. 

“Come on, runt. Let’s do a shot for the road.” 

The shot turned into four shots and Newt was having trouble keeping focus. He was in Hannibal’s place in one moment, then in a car with him the next. 

“I have a name. Newt.” Hannibal didn’t say anything. Was he driving? Newt couldn’t tell, he kept looking at all the Hong Kong lights. “Newton. But friends and well… everyone calls me Newt. So you can, you know, call me Newt.”

Hannibal took a breath but Newt also happened to blink and when his eyes opened he was floating down the hallway of the Jaeger base. Newt groaned and then realized he wasn’t floating, he was on Hannibal’s back. He was getting a piggy-back ride from Hannibal Chau.

“Am I dead?” Newt’s chin was resting on Hannibal’s massive shoulder, his legs tucked under Hannibal’s arms. “If I’m dead I want pizza. From New York.” Newt swallowed, his throat thickening. He remembered his parents cramped apartment in New York City from right after they moved out of Germany, how even now, years later, Newt could recreate the warm, loving chaos of the interior in his mind. Memories of late night pizza with his mother and father came back to him and it was hard to breathe. “I miss that kind of… pizza.”

Newt remembered why he didn’t like getting halfway drunk. It was because he would think about stuff like this, about how much he missed his parents, about how if he thought too much about it, he was so alone that it frightened him. 

If he didn’t think about it, he could throw himself into his research. 

Newt’s grip on Hannibal’s shoulders tightened and he pressed his eyes against Hannibal’s shoulder.

He was being lowered to a bed later, and Hannibal’s voice crept out of the corner. 

“—he better just be drunk. Anything else and… well, I know you don’t believe me to be capable of much but I _swear_ that—”

“Realx, bub.” Something was tugging at his shoes and Newt tried to weakly kick whatever it was away. A strong grip stopped him and Newt gave up, letting whatever it was take off his shoes. “The good doc’ is fine. He’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.” Newt’s feet were released and he was beginning to fade, Hannibal’s voice lulling him to sleep. “If I’m wrong you’re welcome to do your worst.”

Newt was out like a light.

::::

It was few days before the next thing happened. People were starting to pack up, head to a place that they were going to call “home.” 

Hermann and Newt looked at Hermann’s chalkboards and Newt wished that he could pull philosophical quotes and poetry out of his ass. Instead, he choked out:

“Fuck.”

Hermann’s hand shook on his cane. 

“I don’t leave until tomorrow.”

Newt crossed his arms.

“I know. Still.” His shoulders slumped. “Fuck.”

They worked together to pack up Hermann’s half of the room and a soldier stopped by sometime when it felt like it was late. 

“Hey, Newt. You got a package.” 

Newt took it, and it was heavy. He brought it over to the now bare table. Hermann hobbled over as Newton opened it carefully… pulling out… insulated bags. Inside them was…

Pizza. 

Newt’s mouth watered. He pulled out the boxes and sure enough the front of the cardboard had a New York City address, no doubt now ruins in repair like Hong Kong. Newt shook his head, a grin almost splitting his face open. 

“Holy shit, that son of a bitch.”

A card was taped to the top of the first box of pizza, and it had Hannibal’s insignia and a quick note:

_Busy tonight, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy this._

Newt was still shaking his head when Hermann rolled his eyes.

“Unbelievable. Your boyfriend is unbelievable.” 

“Whoa, whoa.” Newt opened the box and pushed it Hermann’s direction, offering him a slice even though the guy was clearly losing his marbles. Hermann accepted, which was a relief because he couldn’t have been that far gone to accept somehow still hot and fresh pizza from New York City. “What are you talking about?”

Hermann got that pinched look around his eyes that Newt had become very familiar with over the past ten years. 

“I don’t care—no, well, your personal life is your business, I hope you’re at least being careful when running around with a criminal.” 

“Oh my God, he’s not my boyfriend!” Newt didn’t like how his cheeks felt hot, or how Hermann was smirking at him. “What? He’s just a guy that… I know. And sometimes go to dinner with. And drink with.” Hermann kept raising his eyebrow like an asshole. Newt clenched his fists. “Come on, he lets me look at Kaiju organs for hours. He lets me sketch them, Hermann, from _different angles_. Do you know how many people get an opportunity like that?” 

Hermann shrugs. 

“If I were to guess, I’d say only you.”

Newt opened his mouth to retort—only to deflate because he didn’t have one. His eyes widened because holy shit Hannibal was treating him to dinner. Hannibal let him look at Kaiju organs. Hannibal _carried him home when he was drunk._

Fuck.

Herman smirked and ate his slice of pizza. 

::::

Newt’s foot bounced on the sticky, gross floor of a dive bar a few blocks away from Hannibal’s place. He had a half full shot-glass of sake and a bowl of cherries they used for Shirley temples. He popped a cherry into his mouth and ignored the stares he was getting from a major creeper on the one end of the bar. 

Last night Hermann got on a helicopter, but not before Newt hugged him tight and told him to keep in touch or else Newt would hunt him down and invade his personal space again. Hermann smiled in that weird way of his, like he wasn’t sure how, and squeezed Newt’s shoulder. Then he was gone. 

Newt ate another cherry, staring into the cracked wood of the bar. 

There was a good chance that Hermann was right. Because Hannibal didn’t need an in with the Jaegers… he already had one. He didn’t need more information on the Kaiju, they were all dead and he knew how to sell every piece of it. If Hannibal wanted a comedian around to be a little storyteller he could hire one. 

Newton finished the sake shot because he was eighty-five percent certain that the overlord of the Hong Kong black market was trying to get in his pants. 

He tried to think about it, he tried to make it scary, terrifying, something he wouldn’t want to do. But his brain kept remembering Hannibal’s deep voice, his growl, and the way his hands were huge when they gripped Newt’s legs while he carried him home. 

Newt’s dick didn’t think Hannibal was unappealing at all. 

Newt sighed and reached for another cherry, it’s sweet taste mocking him. 

He had to face it… Hannibal wasn’t unappealing to his brain either. The guy was scary at first, but having dinner with him and making him laugh, it humanized him. And he seemed interested in the science side of the Kaiju, he had to be to make money. 

Newt fired off a quick text off to Hermann. 

_I think Hannibal is trying to date me. Or is already dating me. Fuck._

The creepster at the end of the bar got up and started to walk over, and Newt hunched over his phone as it buzzed in his hands.

_I’m right. As usual._

Sometimes Newt wished his friends would be a little more sympathetic. He braced himself for the inevitable contact with a smelly looking fellow—when all of a sudden a body was between the creep and Newt. Hannibal’s body.

“This place is seedy. Didn’t think it was your style.”

“It isn’t.” Newt picked up the bowl of cherries. “Want a cherry?”

Hannibal’s brows lower like Newt is a little nuts, which Newt is thinking he is since he’s coming to terms that he’s attracted to an ominous shadow in the Hong Kong black market. 

“Maybe next time. Dinner?”

Newt barely has to nod and he’s being steered out of the bar. They walked through crowds, the people parting like fish make room for a shark. With Hannibal’s hand on Newt’s shoulder they parted for him too, some looks darting toward him like they thought he was going to die shortly, others puzzled why Hannibal would touch someone so shrimpy. 

All of Hannibal’s crew were absent and the lighting was lower than usual once the wall opened up. 

Newt stopped, letting Hannibal walk in before turning around to look at Newt. Newt squinted up at Hannibal, praying for his voice to stay steady and not crack.

“Are we dating?” Hannibal’s face fell. “Like, are we going steady? Because you keep getting me dinner even though I stole your shoe and my friend threw up on you. And you already know everything you need to about the Kaiju, so you don’t really need me around for the rest of the details, you know? I can’t really hook you up with anything you don’t have already. I mean, I have some chalkboards right now but I don’t think--”

“Christ, calm down.” Newt sucked in a breath as Hannibal shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You got a problem dating me?”

Newt shook his head.

“No.” He swallowed. “You didn’t get me flowers.” 

Hannibal shrugged.

“I got you dinner. You want flowers?”

Hannibal said it so gravely in his gravelly voice that it startled a laugh out of Newt. 

“No. Not really.” 

Hannibal towered over Newt but he didn’t move. Newt jutted his chin up a bit, smiling. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Newt smirked, but his victory was short because Hannibal’s arms were boxing him in and Hannibal was ducking down. Hannibal kissed the way he presented himself: powerful, dominant, and dangerous. 

The gold teeth threw Newt off at first when his tongue swiped over them. Hannibal growled and pressed Newt against the wall, his knee shoving between Newt’s legs and yeah—yeah, Newt’s dick was on board with the plan of making out and hopefully having sex with Hannibal. He bit down on Hannibal’s lower lip and sucked, grinning when Hannibal shivered and pushed closer, his one big hand going down to touch Newt through his pants. 

Newt’s head jerked back because _sweet Jesus_ that felt so good, it had just been Newt and his right hand for years, and now, _now…_

Now Hannibal was circling the head of Newt’s head through Newt’s jeans, and it felt ridiculously good. Newt’s legs were shaking and everything was so blurry and foggy—and it took him a moment to realize it was because his glasses had fogged up. He felt like he was a teenager again and that was when Hannibal dragged his teeth along his neck and then sucked a mean bruise.

“Oh, _oh_ , I think, Hannibal—”

Hannibal sucked again hard, his big hand squeezing over Newt’s erection like he _owned_ it and it was over, Newt’s hips jerking and his cheeks bright red. 

He whimpered (something he would deny later and insist was a manly grunt) and shook. Hannibal smirked, Newt could feel it against his neck, and ran his fingers over Newt’s now damp pants. Newt gasped because hello, hypersensitivity, and began to slide down the wall. Hannibal darted down to hold him up. 

Newt’s glasses were still fogged but he could see enough of Hannibal to look at him. 

“I, um, that was one hell of a goodnight kiss.” 

“Goodnight?” Hannibal’s chest rumbled with a laugh that made Newt body throb. He reached out to touch Hannibal, his fingers bumping his belt, then moving down Hannibal’s bulge. Hannibal hissed and Newt smiled, pressing more, enjoying the weight of it, the way it throbbed against his palm. “We’re just gettin’ started.”

Hannibal took Newt’s hand and pulled him deeper into the complex. Newt smiled the whole way. 

::::

Hannibal woke before Newt did because Newt was exhausted and his body ached in the best way. He stretched and savored the smooth sheets that slid along his skin. He cracked his eyes open to see that Hannibal was on the phone, naked with his back to Newt. 

Newt swallowed a yawn and kicked off the sheets so he could lean over the side of the bed and root around in his jeans for his phone. 

He got it and when he pulled himself back onto the bed he saw that Hannibal was looking at him, still on the phone. Newt raised his eyebrow and began to type out a message to Hermann right as Hannibal said, “I gotta take care of somethin.” 

_You were right._

The mattress sagged as Hannibal’s knees hit it. Newt bounced on the mattress and was able to toss his phone away so that it landed safely on his pants. 

Hannibal’s chest rumbled and he licked a wet stripe up Newt’s thigh. Newt’s hands scrambled down to Hannibal’s hair, which was surprisingly soft. He heard his phone buzz and he could feel Hermann gloating via text right before Hannibal demanded Newt’s full attention. 

Sometimes, Hermann was allowed to be right. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked this, I fell in love with this pairing sort of buy accident. All mistakes are mine, I don't have a beta (yet). 
> 
> Criticism and Comments are love!


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